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ARMY BIRDMEN PLAN TO EXTEND GREETINGS TO ATWOOD IN AIR

^[[July 8 11]]

A picturesque scene, unparalleled in aviation, will greet Washingtonians if Harry N. Atwood flies from Atlantic City to this city to-day - the spectacle of one aeroplane acting as guide, pilot, and escort for the other.

Lieuts. [[pencil underlined]] Milling [[/pencil underlined]] and Arnold propose to enact the part of pilots. As soon as news is flashed that Atwood has left or passed over Baltimore, they will ascend with their trusty Wright machine, heading northeast, until they meet the daring birdman. They will exchange greetings in the air, and, without alighting, the army officers will turn and escort Atwood to the Capital.

Like a homing pigeon wheeling aloft the army Wright aeroplane alighted on the parade grounds of Washington Barracks shortly after noon yesterday, bearing Lieuts. Milling and Kirtland in the "cradle." The birdmen swooped down amid an astonished, gaping crowd of officers and civilians, said "howdy-do" to everybody, and within ten minutes again pointed the nose of their craft upward and northward to the College Park hangar.

It was the most remarkable cross-country flight yet negotiated in Washington, covering more than thirty miles, going the distance, as smoothly and serenely as a swan swimming about on a lake. Thirty-eight minutes in all was required for the round trip, the journey to the city taking eighteen minutes. They also broke all army altitude records, reaching 3,260 feet.

No more beautiful sight could be imagined than the white biplane scudding along over the Anacostia basin, passing over Riverdale and Hyattsville at the dizzy height of 2,000 feet, wheeling and circling over Benning and the War College like a mighty eagle ready to swoop upon its prey. Thousands of Washingtonians braved the pitiless heat on roofs of skyscrapers and other coigns of vantage, training their eyes heavenward in an effort to glimpse the two white strips of canvas bearing their human cargo from College Park to the city.

It was at first planned to extend the trip to Fort Myer, but Lieut. Milling shook his head ominously when a choppy, perverse breeze came out of the southwest - the forerunner of the storm to break an hour later. He decided the Washington barracks was far enough for him. Lightly and gracefully the descent was made, cutting "figure eights" as the machine curved to the earth as easily as a thistle.

Get Great Ovation.

Hundreds rushed to get past the guards at the barrack gates, and a few succeeded. The two officers were greeted with great enthusiasm. They stopped ten minutes to go over their machine for loosened bolts or weakened parts. Finding none, they winged their way homeward to College Park, the return trip following the same route.

At no time did Lieuts. Milling and Kirtland encounter any real excitement aloft, although they struck an "air hole" that caused them to volplane 100 feet or more just outside of Benning. The spiral ascent made upon leaving the barrack parade grounds was the very "poetry of aviation," causing great excitement throughout the city.

The successful journey is the forerunner of many other army experiments of the same sort, and the College Park-Fort Myer trip is the next thing on the programme.
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